


La Vie en Rose

by littlelotte



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Other, There's some Sandalphon/Luci but it's more of a character study of Sandalphon himself overall, This was cathartic to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 10:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14872103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelotte/pseuds/littlelotte
Summary: Rose-colored life —A story about Sandalphon and his life on the Grandcypher.





	La Vie en Rose

 I. Anemone 

Somebody told him once that there is beauty in everything. Everything and everyone, even the most insignificant pebble on a beaten path. It has a purpose, it has a reason for being, it has, in its own, way, a form of beauty. Sandalphon wanted to believe him. Even now, he wants to believe him, and he tries to every second of every day, tries to see the world the way he did. A world of color and light. A perfectly imperfect place inhabited by perfectly imperfect creatures.

 _“Everything about this world. The land, the sky, the flowers and trees_ — _the people in it_ — _all of it is breathtaking. Don’t you think so?”_

Back then, Sandalphon just nodded. He clung to his every word, and so he believed him—or he convinced himself he did. Whatever it was and whatever it meant, he wanted to be apart of it. 

_“Perhaps I am being a bit absurd…”_

And he was. He was always absurd. Absolutely and completely absurd.

_“What do you think?”_

He raises a mug to his lips and blows on it. The coffee inside ripples and swirls. Gusts of wind pick up outside and connect with the chimes the blue-haired girl and the Singularity strung up across the ship. Other than this, it’s quiet.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, blowing into the cup again. “I don’t know.”

 

 II. Bouvardia

 

“If you could be any animal, anyone at all, which would you be?”

“...Excuse me?”

“It’s a serious question, sir, and I think you should answer it.”

“What’s with the ‘sir’ all of a sudden. What’s gotten into you?”

“Answer the question pleeaaase.”

“Ugh. You are absolutely incorrigible. Go play with Lyria.”

“You suck!”

Sandalphon slams his coffee mug down on the bar. It draws the attention of the other people in the room, but he doesn’t care. “What do you _want_? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Djeeta raises an eyebrow. “Busy developing an incurable coffee addiction?”

Sandalphon rolls his eyes. “You can’t get addicted to coffee.”

Djeeta snorts. “Yeah, okay. Whatever makes you feel better.” She rests her chin in her hand and sighs. “If you really need to know, I’m doing a series of personality tests. It’s a great way to get to know people, and since you don’t really seem intent on just _talking_ about yourself, I’ve decided to use my own methods.”

“So, let me get this straight. In order to get to know me, you’re asking me what kind of _animal_ I’d be? How in the world could you tell anything about somebody based off of some stupid question like that?!”

“Easy.” Djeeta spreads her fingers out and points at each one. “Lyria said hummingbird, meaning she’s cheerful, bright, and loves music. Katalina said lioness, meaning she wants to be a powerful person who can protect others. Lancelot and Vane answered for each other, actually. Vane’s a golden retriever, which, hello. Lancelot’s an owl because he’s wise and smart. I decided Rackam’s a koala. Not for any particular reason, I just think it’s funny.”

Sandalphon furrows his brows and stares. He’s starting to think he’s brewed this kid too much coffee for her own good. “That,” he picks up his mug again, “has got to be your strangest idea yet.”

“So you’re not gonna answer then?”

He takes a loud sip.

“Ugh, fine. I guess I’ll just have to decide for you!” She hops out of her seat, then climbs up onto the counter and sits down about a foot away from him. She places both hands on her knees and leans forward, squinting. She looks like some kind of sixteen year old mad scientist.

“ _What_ are you doing?”

She shushes him with a quick wave of her hand. “Observation.”

“If you tell me I look like some weird animal I swear I’ll—”

“A cat.”

“...A what?”

Djeeta leans back and smiles. There’s a gleam of pride in her eyes. “You heard me, a cat. You’re just like a cat, Sandalphon.”

Sandalphon shakes his head and goes back to his drink. “Ridiculous.”

Djeeta laughs, then snaps her fingers. “No, no, pay attention. You’re a cat because you’re a solitary person by nature. You cherish your alone time, and when people come to bother you, you tend to get cranky and lash out. Honestly, you can be pretty mean.”

“Uh-huh, thanks.” Leave it to a kid to hit him where it hurts.

“Let me finish.” She leans closer again, grinning, and taps each of her fingers. “You also have a gentle side. You care about those around you, you just aren’t always sure how to show it. You like to be around people, but sometimes they overwhelm you so you go off to hide. This doesn’t mean you don’t care, though—you’re always watching, just not always interacting.” She spreads her arms out wide. “You’re a protector, too. When it comes down to it, you’d go in for the attack if it meant defending someone or something important to you. You’re good.”

Sandalphon can only stare, turning her words over in his head as if they were in a language he couldn’t understand. For whatever reason, his throat feels tight.

“Is there something you want from me, Singularity? Flattery will get you nowhere.”

She shakes her head. “First of all, it’s Djeeta. Remember that. Second of all, no. There isn’t anything I want other than to be friends.”

He drums his fingers along the side of his mug, then clicks his tongue. “You shouldn’t want to be my friend.”

Djeeta’s eyes narrow. “You shouldn’t tell other people how to feel.”

Sandalphon scoffs, but doesn’t look at her. His gaze shifts to the other patrons in the tavern, trying to find somebody to focus on. It’s quiet here during the day, what with most of the Grandcypher’s residents hanging around on deck, but there are a few people in separate corners of the room. He trains his eyes on a tired-looking human with wavy brown hair. He could have sworn he’s heard the man’s name before, but nothing comes to mind. He begins to wonder what caused the bags under his eyes.

“You must have something entertaining to do right now, don’t you? Leave me be.”

There’s a pause, then a small bout of laughter. “Just like a cat.”

“ _Ugh._ ”

Djeeta laughs again, then reaches into her knapsack and pulls out a deck of cards. “Now come on, play me. I’ll get some of the others in on it, too.”

Sandalphon shoots her a glare. “I could leave, you know.”

Djeeta taps her chin. “You won’t, though.”

Sandalphon sighs, but relents. He’s not about to justify that with a response. He shifts his coffee over to the side and extend a hand toward Djeeta, who presses a small stack of cards into his palm.

“Say your prayers, archangel.”

“Just start the damn game.”

She beckons over a few others with a wild grin. “Nothing wrong with having a little fun, right?”

_[“You may not believe me, but I have found Skydom dwellers to be quite amusing.”_

_Sandalphon shrugs. “They don’t seem like they can do a whole lot, if I’m being honest.”_

_“Aha, you would be surprised.”]_

He glances at his cards and shuffles them in order. The tired man from before sits across from him and smilies as though he’s just recently come to life. A quick look around the bar tells him that they’re all smiling. Every single one.

For a second, nothing more, Sandalphon smiles, too.

 

III. Hydrangea

 

_[“Have you ever tried dancing?”_

_Sandalphon looks up and stutters. “Wh-What? No...No I haven’t. It’s not something I’ve really thought about before.”_

_“I see...well, think on it, then. And get back to me.”]_

As fate would have it (much to his dismay), the people aboard the Grandcypher seem to like parties. A lot.

“You’re coming to the big party tonight, right?”

“Not likely.”

Lyria frowns. “But Sandalphon, it’ll be fun, you know? I mean, everybody wants you there…”

Sandalphon looks away from her and sighs. “And I’m sure you’d all have plenty of fun without me there as well.”

Lyria gives a sad smile. “If you’d rather be alone, that’s okay too.”

Before he can answer, Vyrn swoops down and kicks his shoulder. “Aww c’mon! Don’t be like that. Nothing wrong with letting your hair down once in a while!”

He rubs his shoulder and leans against a mast, then scoffs at Vyrn. Evidently, these people wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer even if it killed them. What they _should_ be doing is considering themselves lucky he isn’t vengeful. Because he could be if he wanted to. That’s always a possibility.

“Look, it has nothing to do with my...feelings toward the people here.” He makes a vague hand gesture. “I have never been one for parties, so I’ll be sitting this one out regardless.” With that, he shrugs and walks off toward the dormitories. Behind him, Lyria shouts a cheery “Let us know if you change your mind!” and Vyrn blows a raspberry.

His room is an average size, located in the back section of the dorms where it’s almost always quiet. Djeeta has chosen the room for him back when he first joined the crew and winked at him as if she knew something he didn’t. His bed is lined up against the left wall, dressed in a few thick sheets and topped off with a single pillow. He doesn’t have much of a need for sleep, so the bed itself is typically used for reading or meditation. His nightstand has a couple of books stacked on it, his favorite mug, and an oil-lamp. Its drawers are mostly empty save for a few boxes of coffee beans and a drawing Lyria made him that he couldn’t bring himself to crinkle. His bureau holds his armor, spare changes of clothes, and in the top drawer, several other coffee mugs. There’s a mirror attached to the wall opposite the bed. In the dead of night, after hours of motionless thought, he looks up and wonders if he’s seeing a ghost.

It’s no surprise, really. He’s heard what these people have to say about him. He’ll walk by and all conversation stops, his name on the tips of their tongues until one of them breaks the silence with a slow, steady, “ _that’s_ an archangel?”

He fluffs his pillow and lays down on his bed, then grabs a book from the nightstand. It’s one of the newer ones he bought at one of their island stops that he hasn’t gotten around to reading yet. The title reads _Kip Willowhide,_ and is supposedly about some reclusive old wizard who learns of long-lost family on the other side of ocean and sets out to find them. He’d rather disintegrate than tell the others he enjoys this kind of thing, but adventure novels have a certain charm to them he has a hard time finding anywhere else.

By the end of the book, Kip Willowhide doesn’t end up finding his family members. The letter he’d received from them was over fifty years old, and by the time he gets there, they had all passed on. Sandalphon’s ready to chuck the book across the room until Kip decides his journey, and all the people he met along the way were at the very least worth _something._ After a teary monologue, he starts back home to use the new knowledge of medicine he learned from the elves on the island of Palperroth.

He sets the book back down on the table, then folds his hands over his chest and stares at the ceiling. After a while, he closes his eyes.

_[“It goes like this...here, take my hand.”_

_Sandalphon blinks, then complies. “A-Are you sure? I mean, won’t everyone look at us like we’re silly…?”_

_“Don’t worry about that. Perhaps they will be jealous they are not courageous enough to dance out in the open like we do.”_

_“Huh...I guess you’re right.”_

_There’s that beautiful smile again. It’s every ray of the sun and more._

_“So then, Sandalphon, may I have this dance…?”]_

His opens his eyes and realizes the sun is setting; it casts an orange glow on everything in the room and reminds him where he is. The party starts in an hour.

Something comes over him then. Maybe it’s the fact that he always, always turns down their requests, and he’s just now started feeling bad about it. Maybe the people aboard the Grandcypher aren’t as unbearable as he makes them out to be. Maybe it’s Kip Willowhide. Who knows. Whatever it is, it gets him out of his room and down the hall to find Lyria. When he does, she smiles.

“I changed my mind.”

 

***

 

Whatever had gotten into him in his room, he’d like to tear it out and beat it to death with a mallet.

“You havin’ fun, man?”

“...Who are you again?”

The blond’s features crinkle into a wide grin. “It’s me, Vane! We’ve met, but I’ve never seen you at any of the parties, so it’s awesome that you finally decided to come down!”

Sandalphon clicks his tongue. “There’s a reason for that.”

Clearly not getting the hint, Vane throws an arm around Sandalphon’s shoulders. He tenses up. “Unhand me! You—!” His mind goes to the comment Djeeta made a few days prior. “You dog!”

“Alright, Vane. That’s enough.”

“Huh? Oh, sorry Lancey!”

‘Lancey’ stands with his hands on his hips, his incredulous smile a perfect mixture of disbelief and amusement. “I’m not sure it’s me you need to apologize to.” He tilts his head toward Sandalphon. “Vane hugs can be a little overwhelming for new people.”

Sandalphon cranks his head to the side. “Well?! You heard him! Let me go!”

Vane relents and rubs at the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “Hah...Sorry. Guess I got a little carried away. Dogs are man’s best friend, though, so I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“I mean, I said the same thing, and it was meant to be taken as a compliment.”

“That’s right! You’re the best, Lancey!”

Sandalphon lets out a loud groan and rubs his temples. When he gets back to his room, he might just burn _Kip Willowhide_ for convincing him to spend time with people. “Don’t you two have, I don’t know, friends? Or something?”

“Plenty of friends!” Vane chirps, moving to throw his arms around Lancelot this time. Lancelot laughs, then playfully whacks Vane on the shoulder. There’s a faint blush on his face; Sandalphon coughs.

“We haven’t really gotten the chance to know you,” Lancelot says, separating himself from Vane. “We’ve heard quite a bit about you from Djeeta and Lyria, however, and when we found out you were coming to the party, we decided to look for you.”

Sandalphon gives them both a once over, then crosses his arms over his chest. He’s only now realizing that they’re both taller than him. He has to fight the urge to straighten out his back and stand on his tip-toes. “I’m not interested in small talk. If you have any questions for me, ask now so I can get back to my room.”

Vane shakes his head. “But that kinda defeats the whole point, doesn’t it? If you only stick around for a few minutes, you’ll miss out on all the good stuff. So c’mon, we’ll bring you around and introduce you to a bunch of really nice people. You’ll have a blast! That’s a Vane promise.”

Lancelot chuckles. “Ooh, a Vane promise? You must really mean it then.”

“You bet!”

“Wait.” Sandalphon holds up both hands. “I didn’t say anything about going somewhere with you two.”

His protest is to little avail, though, as Vane’s already rambling away about all the ‘super awesome’ things to do at Grandcypher parties. Lancelot winks, encouraging Sandalphon to follow with a wide gesture of his arm. Sandalphon spits out a few curses, but agrees with a blunt “fine.” He comes up with about ten reasons on the spot as to why this is a bad idea, but none of them stick. “One of you better buy me a coffee from the food stands, though.”

He spends the next hour being dragged around by Lancelot and Vane, who, come to find out, function as a tag-team in just about everything they do. They balance each other out in such a way that Sandalphon ends up with a severe case of third-wheel syndrome about five minutes into their hang-out. For whatever reason, watching them together makes him feel strange. It’s not a terrible feeling, per se, but it’s not good either. It weighs on him.

_[“It’s nice to talk with you, Sandalphon. I feel as though we...understand each other.”_

_“I’m...glad to hear that,” Sandalphon murmurs, heart racing._

_“It’s wonderful, isn’t it? To be understood.”]_

He pauses at a table and watches them interact, watches how everyone around interacts with them. Then, he looks around the ship. His gaze flicks up to the colorful lanterns swaying in the breeze, then to the streamers and carnival games. There’s food stalls and performances, magic shows and parlor tricks. There’s also dancing. Everywhere he looks, there’s people dancing—sometimes together, sometimes next to each other, sometimes completely on their own. Pairs of them hold one another and laugh as if the whole situation was absurd. As if they couldn’t imagine themselves anywhere else. It weighs on him.

“You okay, bud?” Vane asks, suddenly very close. He puts a hand on Sandalphon’s shoulder, brows raised. “You don’t look so good.”

Lancelot’s face scrunches in concern. “Do you need to sit down for a bit? These types of things can be hectic, and we wouldn’t want to overwhelm you.”

Sandalphon squeezes his coffee mug so hard his knuckles turn white. “I’m fine.”

The knights share a worried glance; it weighs on him.

“If you want, we can all grab some food, sit and chill in a quieter place if that’s better for you.”

“Of course, and we can even find something more suitable to your tastes as well. I heard one of the food stalls around here sells chocolate with espresso bea—”

“—That’s enough.” Sandalphon blurts, snatching his mug off the table. “You two have dragged me around for long enough.”

“Hey, Sandalphon—”

He walks fast, moving away from the crowd as quick as possible. Somebody mutters _pompous_ in a brisk tone. Another says _shameful._ In that moment there’s a thousand of eyes on him and he starts to wonder if he’s paranoid is he paranoid? It doesn’t matter none of it matters all that matters is getting back to his room away from everyone and everything the lights and the sounds the laughter the dancing why are they all so goddamn _loud_?

Once he reaches his room, he slams the door behind him and heads straight for his bed. He doesn’t lay down in it, just sits, clutching the fabric of the sheets. The only sound in the room is that of his own labored breathing. A glance to the right proves _Kip Willowhide_ is still on his nightstand. He imagines himself striking a match and burning it, but his arms don’t move. It takes all of his strength to pick his head up and look into the mirror on the other side of the room. His reflection is pale, grungy and dull. The dark circles under his eyes make him look sickly and his hair sticks out in odd places. His face right now can only be described as homely.

“You look like shit.”

His breath catches in his throat. His eyes glaze over and his hands shake.

“What happened to you?”

He’s not sure who or what he’s talking to anymore. He’s not sure who the person in the mirror is. He’s not even sure there’s only one.

“How do I get better?”

Somebody puts their hands on his reflection’s shoulders and smiles. His white hair glows despite the dullness of the room, his blue eyes sparkle like newborn stars. He parts his lips to speak, then vanishes, leaving Sandalphon’s reflection hunched over and alone.

His name sits on Sandalphon’s tongue, but he can’t bring himself to say it. Saying it would be an acknowledgement. An acknowledgement is a goodbye.

“Why didn’t I…” His mind jumps to Lyria’s smile when he told her he’d attend the party. It morphs into a frown not directed at him, but for him.

“Why didn’t I just. Stay?”

He looks down at his knees, closes his eyes, and tries to breathe. Normally, he prefers the quiet, but right now it’s suffocating.

A small voice brings him back to his senses: “Sandalphon…?”

His head jerks toward the door, eyes wide. He can’t put a name to the voice, but it’s undoubtedly familiar. There’s a few second pause, then a soft knock and the repetition of his name.

“...Who’s there.”

Another pause. “Noa.”

Sandalphon sighs and rubs his face. He’s not exactly in the mood for a heart-to-heart, but he doesn’t have the energy to turn him away, either. “Come in.”

The door opens slowly, and Noa’s too-small form comes into view. His eyes settle on Sandalphon, then he tilts his head to the side and smiles.

“You forgot to lock the door.”

Sandalphon scoffs. “So?”

“You’re the type who locks doors out of habit.”

“Skip the mental analysis, Noa.”

Noa gives a soft laugh. “Come now, who said anything about that?”

Sandalphon stares at him for a moment, then shakes his head. He drums his fingers against his knees and focuses his gaze on the wall.

“What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I would beg to differ.”

“Ever the persistent, aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

Noa’s easy smile makes Sandalphon groan. Dealing with other primals is often akin to individually plucking out eyelashes, and Noa’s no stranger to bullshit. Even if he wanted to get rid of him now, he wouldn’t be able to.

“Is Rackam too drunk to mess with right now?”

Noa laughs. “Rackam’s just fine. Right now, I’m more worried about you.” With a slight skip in his step, he makes his way over to the middle of the room, then plops down on the ground, facing Sandalphon. “Mind if I sit?”

Sandalphon makes a vague hand gesture. “You already have.”

Noa nods, then glances around the room. He’s got this pleasant smile on his face, but the look in his eyes is, as always, unreadable. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room with ill-fitted clothes, he looks smaller than he is, but no less mysterious. Somehow, he manages to retain the quality above all else.

“You have yourself a dreary place here, Sandalphon.”

“It’s fine like this.” He pulls his knees to his chest and sighs. “Cut the shit, Noa. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not in a talking mood.”

Noa laughs again. “Are you ever?”

“ _Noa.”_

Noa frowns. “Forgive me, that was a bit mean.” Brows furrowed, he pulls at his braid. It comes undone and he starts from scratch. “You’re right, however. Perhaps I should cut to the chase.” Once he’s done with his braid, he folds his hands in his lap, a thoughtful look on his face. “My reason for visiting has to do with how you stormed out of the party earlier. As I mentioned, I was concerned—not only with this particular event, but with your behavior as of late. While it’s true we aren’t particularly close, we’ve interacted enough for me to tell that something’s off. What happened tonight seemed sort of like...the straw that broke the camel’s back, so I wanted to come check on you, that’s all.”

Sandalphon grips his knees and stares at his knuckles. There’s that odd feeling in his throat again—it makes him feel small. “I’ve already told you I’m fine, Noa. If you really have to know what’s bothering me, it’s everyone here. They’re reckless, inconsiderate, and loud. That party’s a damn eyesore, so I left. There’s nothing to be concerned about, so don’t read into it too hard.”

There’s a pause. “Sandalphon,” Noa says slowly, “this isn’t just about the party.”

“There’s nothing wrong, period. I’m just annoyed, and frankly? You’re making it worse.”

Another pause, this time longer than the last. “Sandalphon,” Noa says again,” I know you still miss Lucif—”

Sandalphon’s mind goes blank. “ _Don’t_ say his name!”

His shout shakes the room, Noa looks stunned. Panicked, his gaze flicks up to the mirror, but it shows nothing other than the red of Sandalphon’s face and the back of Noa’s head. It’s shameful, he thinks. Shameful, shameful, shameful.

After what feels like hours, Noa speaks in a soft tone: “I’ve overstepped my boundaries, and for that, I apologize.” He purses his lips and tugs at his braid again. “I’m sorry for the pain I’ve inflicted you.”

Sandalphon blinks a few times. His head’s spinning. “You just. You don’t understand. You can’t possibly understand.”

Noa stares for a moment, expression still unreadable. “Sandalphon, my friend.” He lets his hair fall loose over his shoulders and gives a small, sad smile. “I know what it is to be alone.”

In that moment, the spinning stops, and Sandalphon is suddenly very aware of himself. Something like guilt rises up and grips his chest. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Out in the halls somewhere, he hears laughter.

“You and I both know very well what it means to be alone. Like the backs of our hands and the shapes of our faces, to us, it comes naturally.” Noa holds up his hands, then cups his cheeks. “We know loneliness very well, being what we are, but that doesn’t mean it’s _all_ we are.”

Sandalphon just stares, dumbfounded. His eyes move to his hands and he studies the paleness of them. Coming up from his wrist toward the center of them are the bumps of his veins, ever so slightly blue. His fingers are long, bony and thin. A few of his nails are longer than others. He makes a mental note to clip them later.

“Primals often live lonesome lives, yes, but as we are now, we are not alone. Look around, Sandalphon. Look at all the people aboard this ship, at all the people who want to be with you and learn more about you. Though for many of them, life is short, they want to make you a part of it. To put it simply, they want to be your friends.”

Sandalphon lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He looks into Noa’s eyes and, for the first time, he can decipher the emotion: grief. Inexplicable grief, and somehow, a glimmer of hope.

“You are not alone, Sandalphon. No matter how much you think you are, you are not alone.”

There’s silence again, and Noa, seemingly content with himself, offers up a smile. Sandalphon isn’t sure where to look, whether it be at Noa, his hands, or the floor. His chest is so tight it’s hard to breathe. He has to force himself to remember how.

“I,” Sandalphon inhales sharply, “I don’t...”

Noa hums. “I can’t say I completely understand what you are going through in specific, but I don’t think anyone can. Nobody can come to understand everything we’re going through, or what it’s like to be, well, us.”  

Before Sandalphon can think of a response, Noa stands up and moves closer. Once they’re at about eye level with each other, Noa puts a gentle hand on Sandalphon’s shoulder.

“It may be difficult for others to understand, but do you know what they can do?” Noa pauses, and Sandalphon searches his face. After a moment, Noa smiles. “Listen, Sandalphon. They’re willing to listen. Even if they don’t know what to say, they’re willing to stay by your side, no matter the strength of the storm.”

Something wells up in him. It squeezes his lungs and frantically tries to escape. His eyes start to burn and his face heats up. Without warning, warm tears spill down his cheeks, and when he tries to breathe, he chokes back a sob.

Noa gives his shoulder a soft squeeze. “I, too, am willing to listen.”

Sandalphon brings his hands to his face and curses into them.

“Take all the time you need,” Noa murmurs, “There’s no shame in sadness. You are stronger than you know.”

As his sobbing subsides, Noa pokes one of Sandalphon’s hands and coaxes it away from from his face. Then, Noa closes his fingers around Sandalphon’s and smiles.

“Th-Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Sandalphon. What are friends for?”

All he can do is nod.  

 

IV. Goldenrod

 

“Hmm. I think it goes like this?”

“No, no, it’s more like this.”

“Are you sure?”

“If it’s any consolation, I think you both sound wonderful.”

“As with anything new, you both could use a bit of practice. But yes, as Katalina says, I agree…”

Sandalphon had come out of his room about twenty minutes ago. He’d gone downstairs, brewed a cup of coffee, then made his way out onto the deck. The deck of the Grandcypher is always bursting with activity, so it’s not like he was anticipating solitude. What he gets this morning, however, is something entirely new.

“I think maybe you’re supposed to strum it more like th—Ooh, Sandalphon! Come here!”

Lyria sets her instrument down on a blanket and waves. Io, who sits beside her, gives him a once over and sticks her tongue out. Katalina turns around and beckons him over, meanwhile Vira, who’s next to her, offers a small smile.

With a shrug, Sandalphon walks over to where Lyria is patting a spot on the blanket next to her. She starts rambling before he even has the chance to sit down.

“So Katalina, Vira, Io and I went out to the market this morning because we had some spare time and this island’s really pretty so we did some shopping and while we were shopping we heard this super pretty sound and of course we had to check it out so we walked over and we saw these—” she picks up her instrument and shoves it toward him, pride in her eyes. “They’re called ukuleles and the lady playing them at the booth was so nice she said she loved our enthusiasm so she let me and Io buy one and get the other fifty-percent off so now we both have ukuleles and we’re learning to play!”

Vira nods. “Deep breath, Lyria. You talk so fast sometimes it’s like a whirlwind.”

Io looks incredulous. “Yeah, and also, you said ukulele wrong. It’s pronounced yoo- _kuh_ -ley-lee, not yoo- _keh_ -ley-lee.”

“Let her be excited,” Katalina smiles fondly, “In times like these, it’s not often you get to try something new for fun.”

Sandalphon blinks a few times, unsure where to look. He decides to focus on Lyria, who’s still showing off her new toy. She has on that bright smile of hers that’s hard to ignore. “So you’re learning how to play this thing? If I’m being honest, it looks like an odd cross between a violin and a guitar. It’s small like a violin, but it resembles guitar. How…” he pauses and musters the strength to sound as genuine as he feels. “How unique.”

“Isn’t it?” Lyria beams, running her fingers down the instrument’s strings. “The best part is, it makes such a happy sound when its played. Just listening to it makes me smile.”

Io sighs. “We just have to learn how to actually play them. So far, we sound like we’re strumming tin cans.” To demonstrate, she flicks the strings with her index finger. The notes that result are unidentifiable and shrill. “See?”

Lyria frowns. “Well, we have to tune them again, don’t we?” She reaches into the shopping bag in front of her and pulls out a handful of small, two-pronged metal rods. “The lady at the booth said that when you take ukuleles to different places, they can go out of tune. So I think that’s our problem.”

“If that’s the case, why not let Vira and I help you get them back in tune?” Katalina reaches out and both Lyria and Io scoot over. Vira grabs hold of Lyria’s ukulele and one of the tuning forks, then gently taps it on the ground. She then holds the fork upright on the ukulele itself with one hand and turns the keys with the other. She keeps it up until the sound coming from the ukulele matches the trill of the fork, then moves on to another string. Katalina mimics Vira’s motions with Io’s ukulele, each of them talking and laughing away as if nothing else mattered. It makes Sandalphon feel somewhat out of place, like he’s stumbled into a family picnic despite not being related. Like, he’s the awkward uncle twice-removed who only sees his relatives once every two thousand years.

“I think I’ve got it,” Vira says. She makes a wide strum and smiles. “There, that sounds better.”

Katalina sighs in relief. “Honestly, Vira, you make it look so easy. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be struggling with the first string.”

A light blush blooms on Vira’s cheeks; she looks away. “You learn something new every day, you know. So don’t sell yourself short, Katalina. You have many talents.”

Lyria and Io share a look, then Lyria scoots back over to Sandalphon, ukulele in hand. The wind causes her hair to fly forward and whack her in the face. Sandalphon snorts without realizing it.

“Okay, okay, I think I’m ready now.” She holds the ukulele flat against her stomach and splays her fingers out over the strings. “The first song in the little book the lady gave us is ‘You are My Sunshine,’ so we’ll try that!” With a deep breath, Lyria plucks a chord, then bites her lip and starts to strum. “You...are...my...sunshine….my—ah.” Her brows furrow as she glances down at her hands. “I messed up.”

Io shakes her head. “I think you had your fingers on the wrong bar there. Here, watch me.” She straightens out her back, presses the ukulele to her stomach, and strums. “You are my sunshiiine, my only—wait.” Her concentration melts into a pout as she flicks at the strings. “I could have sworn I was doing it right…”

Katalina offers a gentle smile. “For what it’s worth, picking up something new isn’t always simple. When I first learned swordsmanship, I had to train daily to improve. No new skill comes easy, but with hard work and a positive attitude, you’ll find yourself making progress.”

“It’s true!” Vira adds with a giggle, “I remember being teenagers, and how we both had our different shortcomings when it came to combat...I myself had problems with coordination, but I managed to pull myself together with practice.” She turns toward Katalina and winks. “And with the help of a very special person.”

Sandalphon’s been nodding along, content to just listen, until Lyria taps his shoulder. “What about you, Sandalphon?”

He blinks and stares. “When I first started uh, learning to brew coffee, it didn’t go as well as you’d think. Didn’t taste good, either. I kept burning it. I get compliments on it now, though, so it’s safe to say I improved. I’ve never learned an instrument.”

“Well maybe it’s time you start!” Without warning, Lyria shoves the ukulele into Sandalphon’s hands. “We can learn together!”

Before he can respond, the wind picks up again, blowing hair over his eyes. There’s heat in his cheeks and he can’t imagine he looks anything other than chagrined. A chorus of laughter erupts nearby and all his only defense is to ask himself how he got into this situation.

“Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to be learning? Don’t push this on me. What about all that talk of practice and effort?”

“Afraid to try something new, Sandalphon?”

“He must be embarrassed to be in the presence of such talented individuals.”

“Nah, he’s just scared he’s gonna suck.”

Lyria shakes her head. “That’s okay! We also suck, Io. In fact, everyone here sucks at ukulele, because none of us really know how to play it. But that’s okay! We’re all just taking the first steps to improving, so there’s nothing to be afraid of!”

“I-I don’t know if the ukulele is my thing” Sandalphon sputters, “It’s definitely more suited for somebody like Lyria.”

Vira smirks. “And what is your thing? Organs in the cellar of an opera theatre?”

“Oooh definitely,” Io chimes, “He’s suuuuper edgy like that.”

Sandalphon gawks. “I…! You…! Edgy?!”

There’s laughter again, and Sandalphon drags his hands down his face. Somewhere in the middle of that, Io dubbed him the ‘phantom of the Grandcypher’ which sparked another flurry of giggles. Apparently, the concept of him not using _edgy_ as an identifier is the funniest shit on the planet.

“Are you four done?”

Lyria taps his shoulder; Sandalphon cracks an eye open.

“It’s okay if you like edgy things, organ music, bitter coffee, or anything at all. No matter what, you’re still the friend we love!”

He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again. It feels like something’s lodged in his windpipe. He doesn’t know where to look or what to do with his hands. With a deep breath, he grabs hold of Lyria’s ukulele and cradles it close to his stomach. “How do I, um, what’s the name of the song you were playing again?”

Io grins. “Are you gonna sing?”

Sandalphon coughs. “Of course not.”

“Aw...Wait, what if I sing, and you play the chords?” Lyria fumbles around with the song book and presses it down with both hands. “Here, it starts with C, so you place your fingers over on the last string about three bars down…”

Once he’s situated, Lyria leans back and nods. She raises three fingers and smiles as she begins her countdown.

“Ready, Sandalphon?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Yay! Okay, here goes…!”

 

***

 

Sandalphon rests his head on a table and drums his fingers against the side of his mug. The mid-afternoon breeze is gentle on his skin, the deep blue of the sky is soothing despite its plainness. Funnily enough, the ukulele was more of a challenge than he expected. His wrists ache from strumming and his head hurts from trying to decipher syncopation without a fraction of experience. Come to find out, he’s not a musician.

 _“You’re, like, really bad at this,”_ Io had told him, _“But that’s okay. So are we.”_

Katalina shook her head then. _“I think he’s doing the best he can with what little experience he has. Remember all that talk about practice making progress? He’s already doing better than he was an hour ago.”_

_“That’s right! So come on, Sandalphon, let’s do our best together!”_

He picks his head up and rests his chin on one hand while the other wraps around his coffee. A few months ago—last week, even, he would have thought nothing he accomplished today held any importance. He would have kicked himself for wasting time on the ukulele instead of fulfilling some self-assigned sacred duty. He would have felt a knot deep in the pit of his stomach that made his breathing heavy and his skin hot.

Today, however, was different. Today, for lack of a better word, was pleasant.

“Is this where you come to brood?”

He jumps and almost sends his coffee flying into the ocean. Either the people on this airship are all masochists, or he just has an astronomically low tolerance for surprises.

“You have no room to talk. I’ve seen you brood.”

Vira smiles, then points to a spot at the table opposite Sandalphon. He nods, giving her the okay to sit down.

“We’ve already come to a draw then, haven’t we?”

Sandalphon’s brows furrow. “I don’t remember there being an argument.”

“That’s not,” she bites her lip, “Aha, well, you’re right about that. But that’s not entirely what I meant.”

He’s not sure what to make of that, so he shrugs and brings his mug to his lips. The coffee inside has gone cold, so he drinks it with a heavy gulp. Vira just sits there eyeing him carefully like she’s worried he has some hidden kill switch. Either that, or she’s wondering when to activate hers.  
  
“Can I uh, can I help you?”  
  
Vira blinks. “I didn’t come here for help.”  
  
Sandalphon swirls what’s left of his coffee around in his cup, lips pursed. To say Vira Lillie is odd would be an understatement. Questioning her is pointless. He’s not so much afraid of her as he is ambivalent towards her. He’s caught wind of the fact that she can morph into a completely different person when Katalina isn’t around to stop her.  
  
Instead of ignoring the elephant, he says what’s on his mind: “Where’s Katalina and the others? Aren’t you usually with them?”  
  
Vira stares at him, brows furrowed, then slowly, like she has something to prove: “I am…my own person. I don’t have to…constantly be around Katalina. I can spend time with others, too.”  
  
Silence falls between them again. Sandalphon studies her for a moment, then looks away. To distract himself, he traces the table’s wood grain with his fingertips.  
  
“I am my own person. I can think about other things. I can think about other people. I’ve made room. Please don’t insist that this is strange.”

Sandalphon looks down at his hands and studies the curves of the bones. Every possible response he comes up with sounds contrived—or worse, insensitive. When he finally works up the nerve to make eye contact, he nods once and allows her to continue.

“Despite the fact that I was able to get along well with everyone today, I’m still new at this.” She steeples her fingers and straightens out her back. “There was a time before we met that I thought there was only one person I needed in life. Everybody else was white noise. Every _thing_ else was white noise.”

In the distance, another airship passes by. It’s smaller than the Grandcypher, with less oars and from the looks of it, fewer faculties. Sandalphon finds himself wondering what sort of people could be on it, what sort of lives they lead.

“But over time, and with the constant reassurance of others...I learned I was wrong. I learned that, by only focusing on one person at a time, I was missing out on everyone and everything else. Living like that...there’s a loneliness that you can’t shake. Of course I still love Katalina, and I always will...but there’s room in my heart for others as well. She is my most treasured person, but now that I’ve realized the importance of forming bonds with others, I’ve come to treasure other people as well.”

Vira’s expression is a cross between wishful determination and crippling anxiety. It’s as though she’s trying to convince not only Sandalphon, but herself. Still, despite her hesitation, her words are genuine. A gust of wind blows hair into her face and she brushes it away with a slow swipe of her hand.

“This,” she makes a wide gesture, “is a good place. The people here take care of you. They take care of each other.”

Sandalphon takes a deep breath and nods. The other airship is farther off now, a tiny dot among the clouds. “Yes. They...they do.”

Vira twirls a strand of her hair. “You and I are not so different. I think that’s what I was getting at when I said we’ve already come to a draw. That’s to be expected.” She inhales sharply and looks down at the table. “I may be overstepping my boundaries when I say this but I think—and forgive me, I’m still new at this—that you and I could become...friends.”

The other airship is gone. He starts to wonder where it went, then remembers he’s on one right now. “Friends,” he mimics, rolling the word over on his tongue, “You know? That doesn’t sound like a bad thing. That doesn’t sound bad at all.”

For the first time since he’s met her, Vira gives a smile that’s undeniably candid.

“Thank you, Sandalphon. I’m sure you and I will make great friends.”

“Likewise.”

The rest of their time together that evening passes in silence. There was something reassuring about it, like the lull of a heavy storm. Like the first glimmer of light through dark gray clouds.

 

 V. Gladiolus

 

That night, Sandalphon goes back to his room later than usual. It’s becoming more of a habit of his to spend his time (gods know he has too much of it) with others. First it was ukulele, then it was Vira, then it was Djeeta’s storytelling circle. She’d gathered a handful of crew members for her rendition of truth or dare, which boils down to either telling a true story or spitting out the strangest thing you come up with. Djeeta’s dare story was about ghost pirates while Rackam’s revolved around an impossible storm. Once it was his turn, Sandalphon went with truth, and he was told to talk about something interesting he saw recently that _didn’t_ involve coffee. Needless to say, the crew got a good laugh out of his sputtering.

Come to find out, he’s an introvert. So, while he doesn’t have much of a need for sleep, he decides a nap can’t hurt. 

Once he’s changed into soft cottons, he tucks himself into bed, dims the light, and tries to steady out his breathing. He turns the events of the day over in his mind until his eyelids grow heavy and, after deciding he’d talk to Noa about something in the morning, he lets sleep finally take him.

 

***

 

“..........................................Andal...On….”

“...............Sandal…Phon…..”

“......Sandalphon.”

His eyes flutter open and he jerks upright. His face is hot, his hands shake, his chest is tight. Above him and all around him, there’s white. Like clouds, almost, but more suffocating. The voice that calls out to him is faint, but with each interval it grows clearer.

“Sandalphon.”

His heart stops.

“Sandalphon.”

His head spins.

“Sandalphon, it’s me.”

He can’t breathe.

“Please, look at me.”

There’s no moisture in his mouth. With a sharp inhale, he looks up and chokes out the name like his mouth is full of sandpaper.

“Lucifer.”

Lucifer nods, smiling gently like he hasn’t a care in the world. “I’m glad you’re here, Sandalphon. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long, long time.”

He’s here. He’s here and he’s real. He’s so, _so_ real that Sandalphon could reach out and touch him. He could touch him and he’d be there. Hair, skin, and everything. Everything and all of him, sitting there cross-legged with his hands in his lap and a smile on his face. He’s _real._

“You can finally tell me all about these new friends you’ve made.”

There’s this buzzing sound in the back of his head. It’s faint, but noticeable enough to scare him.

“H-How. H-How are you.” His entire body feels hot, so much so that any second he could keel over. “H-How are you here.”

Lucifer tilts his head and stares, his brows knitted in confusion. “How am I here?”

The buzzing gets louder; it makes his head pound and his eyes water. “Don’t. Don’t start with that. You know what I mean. You’re dead. You died. You _died._ So that means I’m dreaming. It has to be. But that doesn’t make any sense. I’m,” he swallows thickly, “I’m in pain. This. This _hurts_. You’re right there, but you died. You’re supposed to be dead I don’t understand what’s going on or where I am and it fucking hurts. _"_

He’s not looking at Lucifer anymore. In his peripheral, he sees a hand reach out to touch him and recoils. The hand stops, then falls.

“Forgive me, Sandalphon,” Lucifer murmurs, “That wasn’t fair of me. None of this is.”

The panic settles in his gut like lead. He’s not sure whether to laugh or cry, but the way things are looking now, it’ll probably end up a sad mixture of both. After all this time, after all the practiced monologues and arguments he played out in his head, all he can manage is sputtering like a clown.

“Am I dreaming.”

“I...To tell you the truth, I’m not sure.”

“Is this real.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that either.”

“Which is it, then.”

“I...I don’t know. I’m sorry, love, I don’t know.”

Sandalphon winces. The word ‘love’ hits him like a block of cement, and for a second, he wonders if it heard it right. Whatever it was, and whatever it means, none of it matters. The man who said it is dead, and there’s not a word or power in the world that can change that. “Why are you here, then? What is this and where am I? You have to know something or you wouldn’t be here. I’m not—” without warning, hot tears pour down his cheeks and clog his throat “—I’m not making this up.”

Lucifer folds his hands in his lap again and gives a sad smile. “I don’t intend to hurt you.”

‘Then what _do_ you want?!” Sandalphon snaps, “Why are you here? Why now? Why when everything started going good again and I was finally starting to get happy, why now?! Why couldn’t you do this earlier? You said you’re trying not to hurt me but you are you won’t even give me a straight answer and that’s. That’s not fair! You’re not fair, Lucifer. You never are!” He brings his hands to his face and swears between sobs. “Please, just go. I can’t do this. I can’t.”

There’s a long pause. What feels like hours passes by in silence from one party and muffled sobs from the other. Sandalphon forces himself quiet with his hands and, over the course of several minutes, evens out his breathing.

After a while, Lucifer speaks: “Sandalphon, I’m here because there’s something I want to ask you.”

Sandalphon sniffles, dragging his hands down his face to wipe his tears.

“Okay,” Lucifer starts, his voice soft, “You called me dead, right? If that’s the case, then I can no longer be considered among the living. In a sense, I cease to exist. All trace of me left in this world will fade, and soon enough, I will be lost to time.”

Sandalphon shifts his gaze to Lucifer’s hands, which are moving about as he tries to explain himself. As always, they’re perfect. Everything about him is perfect.

“With all of that being said, it is safe to say that there’s nothing left for the deceased. Eventually, all will be forgotten. All, even the most influential figures, will be nothing but storybook characters retold as myth. Such is the cycle of life.” Lucifer presses his fingertips together to resemble a sphere, then slowly pulls them apart. “I’ve come to realize, however, that there’s something the dead all have in common. There’s something we wish for more than anything else, something that allows us to—as they say—rest in peace. What I want,” he brings his hands to his chest, “is to ask you what you think that thing is.”

Again, he’s not sure whether to laugh or cry. Even in death, Lucifer hasn’t changed. “What the dead want,” he bites his lip,” is to be brought back. They want another chance at life.”

Lucifer shakes his head. “I suppose there’s many who want that, but not all.”

Sandalphon glares at him and sniffles. “Okay, fine. They want to be remembered. The dead want people to remember them and tell their stories. That’s what gives them peace.”

Lucifer just smiles. “True, but not exactly the answer I’m looking for. Keep at it, you’re getting closer.”

“I can’t think of anything else.”

“Try.”

Sandalphon lowers his head and sighs. There’s still tears pricking his eyes and his breathing is still difficult to control. At the very least, their conversation has given him something to focus on other than the way dead Lucifer’s smile makes his chest hurt. “I guess. I guess the dead want the people they love to be happy even if they’re gone. If death is irreversible, they wouldn’t want the people left alive to always be miserable about their passing.”

Lucifer tilts his head again, but rather than looking confused this time, his expression radiates warmth. “Do you realize what you just said?”

Sandalphon balks at him, mouth hung open, then shakes his head and stares. “I don’t. I don’t get what you’re trying to say.”

“What you just said,” Lucifer starts, “is that the dead want their living loved ones to carry on without them. They want the people they left behind to smile and move forward, even if it’s difficult.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. Before he can drum up a feasible response, the scenery begins to change. White nothingness starts to fade and in its place comes a flurry of color. Reds, pinks, greens and golds bloom by his feet and spread in every direction, painting the once barren landscape with freshly bloomed flowers. The space above him shifts to a brilliant blue. Standing in the middle of it all, Lucifer spreads his wings and glows.

“The dead recognize that life is for the living. Even if we haven’t left anyone in particular behind, we want the world to continue on without us. We want the sun to rise, set, and change the colors of the sky. We want seasons to shift and flowers to bloom. We want those who’ve touched our lives, wherever they may be, to always push forward. To forge new relationships and find new love. Our final wish,” he spreads his arms out wide and smiles, “is for those we’ve known to live their lives to the fullest, everyday and with everything they have.”

“Lucifer, I!” He doesn’t have time to finish before strong gusts of wind hit him from behind and send him stumbling forward. He looks desperately for Lucifer only to find the flowers have started to grow at an alarming rate, surrounding Lucifer's body and intertwining themselves with his limbs.

His voice shakes; his hands reach out to grasp at something far away. “Lucifer!”

“Your life is precious, Sandalphon. Please continue to live it. Do that, and you’ll be just fine.”

Tears stream down his face, his knees buckle. “Come back,” he begs, and thousands of airships speed overhead until one—just one—lowers itself to the ground.

The flowers continue to grow until they’re tall enough to reach his cheeks and wipe his tears. The ship lands somewhere close-by, and not a moment later, Sandalphon hears his name.

“I promise you. I promise you I’ll live.”

There’s footsteps behind him and somebody puts a firm, but gentle hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s it is.

 

 VI. Birds of Paradise

 

Sandalphon wakes up in a cold sweat to the sound of a knock on his door. He rubs his face and untangles the blankets with his legs, then slowly brings himself upright. His hands have a slight, continual shake to them, and his left arm has gone almost entirely numb. He groans, then closes his eyes and tries to breathe as images of last night’s conversation with Lucifer fight for attention in his head.

“Sandalphon?”

The voice outside his door is immediately recognizable. He’d know it anywhere.

“You okay in there? Normally, you’re up by now…”

He fumbles around for the lamp switch and yawns. Once he’s got it, he stretches out his legs and moves to stand up, using his bedside table as support. His gaze flicks up to the mirror and, to his surprise, what he sees isn’t so much ghost-like as it is oddly human. His facial features are imperfect what with his dark circles and too-thin lips. He’s got messy hair and a lanky frame, which, added with his lack of overwhelming height, makes him seem small. You’d be hard pressed, he realizes, to find an archangel as awkward looking as him.

“Sandalphooooon.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He coughs into his fist and starts to dress himself, slowly but surely as the brain fog fades. Once finished, he runs a brush through his hair until it’s at least somewhat presentable, then grabs a mug from his bureau and makes his way to the door. He takes a deep breath, counts backwards from ten, and lets her in.

“Morning sunshine,” Djeeta says as she pushes a cup into his free hand, “Lyria and I made you coffee because we figured you were, like, extra tired or something. She tried to make a little smiley face with the cream, but it got all messed up. Still, enjoy.”

Sandalphon squints, then peers down at Djeeta and Lyria’s clumsy attempt at a cappuccino. The coffee itself is a bit too light, and the ‘smiley face’ looks more like an oozing blob. Still, for whatever reason, he has to fight the urge to smile back.

“My compliments to the barista.”

Djeeta grins. “Thank you, it’s one of my many talents.” She shifts her weight over to one side and hoists a large tote bag over her shoulder. “Now come on. We’ve got a lot of adventurer-ing to do today.”

Sandalphon raises an eyebrow. “Adventurer-ing? Incredible. The combat skills of a genius and the grammar skills of a child.”

She sticks her tongue out and turns on her heels. “My eloquence will shock you when you least expect it. But anyway, we’re running late for today’s adventurer-ing, so I’d suggest we get going before the caffeine wears off.”

“Right behind you, Captain,” Sandalphon snorts, taking a sip of his coffee. It’s disgustingly sweet and kind of burnt, but just this once, he doesn’t mind.

The Grandcypher’s main deck is bustling with activity and the obvious signs of preparation. Today’s journey has something to do with gathering information about an endangered species in the area, which may or may not have to do with the island’s primal beast. To investigate, a crew would have to trek through thick rainforest and possibly fend off large hoards of monsters. Djeeta has approached Sandalphon (with Noa) the other day and essentially begged (with gentle persuasion from Noa) until he agreed to tag along.

“Glad you could come along with us today, Sandalphon.”

Speak of the devil.

“I just couldn’t pass up on the opportunity to end up with fifty bug-bites and mud on every inch of my body.”

Noa laughs and pokes Sandalphon’s shoulder with his paddle. “Regardless, I think it’ll be fun. You should never give up the chance to try something new.”

Sandalphon shoots him a glare. “Don’t come crying to me when you get spiderwebs tangled in your hair or something.”

Noa shudders. “You’ve got me there. Let’s watch each other’s backs, agreed?”

He waves Noa off with a small smile. “If that’s what makes you feel better.”

All around him, the Grandcypher’s crew members engage in lighthearted conversation. There’s excitement and anticipation radiating off of everyone’s features as they haul supplies from the deck down to the docks below. He spots a familiar pair of fully-armored knights carrying bags of rations until one trips over what looks like air and the other busts out laughing. Vane scrambles off the ground with a blush and Lancelot bends down to help him. In the process, Lancelot notices Sandalphon and waves.

“You coming along?”

“Huh—Oh! Sandalphon! Are ya? It’d be awesome if you did!”

Sandalphon coughs into his hand a few times, but fails to hide the laugh. “Wasn’t given much of a choice.”

Vane jogs over with Lancelot in tow, still scarlet from his not-so-subtle faceplant. “That’s great, man! We’re excited to have you!”

Lancelot brushes imaginary dirt off of Vane’s shoulder and offers a warm smile. “What he said.” He nudges Vane’s bicep with his elbow and nods, to which Vane mouths a wide ‘oh’ and turns to grin sheepishly at Sandalphon.

“By the way, we’re sorry about what happened at the party that night. We didn’t mean to scare you off, and we promise there’s no hard feelings about it or anything. It was wrong of us to drag you around the way we did.”

Lancelot nods. “We don’t hold anything against you for what happened, and if it’s alright with you, we’d still like to be friends, even if we got off to a bit of a rocky start.”

Sandalphon isn’t sure which of them he’s supposed to look at, so he opts to stare down at his drink. His face feels warm and he can only hope he isn’t blushing. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m not mad about it, nor was it your fault.” Honestly, he’s turned into a soft hearted fool. “I wouldn’t mind being friends as long as long as all boundaries are respected. Or, well, I wouldn’t mind being friends period, is what I’m trying to say.”

Vane cheers and claps Sandalphon on the shoulder, nearly making him drop his coffee. Lancelot laughs again, but holds Sandalphon’s other arm to keep him from losing balance. Once it’s clear Sandalphon isn’t going to topple over from receiving the brunt of Vane’s over-enthusiastic show of affection, the two knights leave him with a promise of more to come. His cheeks ache and he realizes he’s been smiling.

“Did Djeeta hold your coffee bean stash for ransom to get you to join us today?”

Sandalphon turns to see an incredulous Vira with her arms crossed. She’s dressed for a lengthy journey with simple armor and hair piled up high into a bun. In her hands, there’s a small vial of clear liquid.

“Spray some of this on your arms and neck. It keeps the bugs away.”

“Uh, thanks,” Sandalphon says as Vira places the vial in his hands, “Not a fan of insects, honestly, so I’ll definitely be using it.”

Vira smirks at that. “Few are, just be careful not to crush any in front of Lyria. I once saw her carry a humongous spider away in a cup to set it free at the docks.”

Sandalphon smiles and shrugs. “Duly noted.”

“Speaking of, let’s go find her.” Vira beckons him over with a wave of her hand and walks off in the direction of the ship’s bow. It doesn’t take long to spot Djeeta gesturing wildly up on a stack of boxes with Lyria giggling alongside her. Vyrn sits on Djeeta’s shoulder and reiterates everything being said with his own simplistic version. The three of them look like street performers or circus clowns, and, before he has the chance to stop himself, Sandalphon cracks up laughing.

When Djeeta sees him, she jumps off the boxes and puffs her chest out with pride. Lyria bounds over to Vira and envelops her in a tight hug. Sandalphon raises his hands quickly, but not fast enough to keep her from hugging him, too. He stumbles backward and sputters until Vira latches on to his shoulder to keep him in place.

Djeeta playfully pokes his arm. “You’re really not used to hugs, are you?”

Sandalphon rubs his shoulder. “Evidently, no.”

“Well, there’s more where that came from. So be ready, bud, we’re not letting you off easy.” With that, Djeeta winks and turns back toward crowd. She gives the signal of departure and hoards of crew members make their way to the docks. For a second, maybe more, he stands still and watches them pass.

After a moment, someone nudges his arm.“You know what the most amazing thing about the people here is?”

Sandalphon looks down to see a giddy Noa grinning up at him.

“Tell me.”

“They live a rose-colored life. Call me a fool, but I think that’s wonderful.”

Noa takes off after that, urging Sandalphon to follow with a sing-song version of his name. He starts to move forward, but stops before reaching the ladder. He’s not sure why he hadn’t noticed it before, but the sky today is a cloudless blue.

“You’re right,” he murmurs, “I’ll be fine.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Each section, to go with the “La Vie en Rose” theme is named after a flower. The first chapter is named Anemone because the flower can symbolize the feeling of being forsaken or anticipation. The second is called Bouvardia because those represent enthusiasm or a “zest for life,” which I think fits Djeeta well, and those are feelings that Sandalphon wants to have, but struggles with at this point in the story. Third is Hydrangea, which are often associated with heartfelt emotions and can also be used to express gratitude for being understood. The fourth chapter gets its name from Goldenrod, which symbolize encouragement and growth. The fifth is Gladiolus, which have many meanings, but the one I’m working with here is remembrance. Last is Birds of Paradise, which is a play off of the event name Paradise Lost, but the flower itself also symbolizes joy. I thought it’d be fun to give each chapter a flower name, and it was definitely a lot of fun researching meanings! Thank you so, so much for reading, it means a lot!!!! ♡
> 
> Also I'm on twitter @ tsubakimac if you want to see more yelling


End file.
